It had been a lousy week. The reports of UFO sightings in Maine had been
so promising, but in the end, they had turned to actually be weather
balloons, of a new design. He would have accepted any other explanation,
but weather balloons were just so... cliched.
Mulder was headed for the bathroom, tugging at his tie as he went, when
he heard it. The soft sound of someone clearing his throat. Cursing
himself for letting his guard down, he turned around to face the figure
standing in the shadows in the corner of he room. He squinted for a
moment, trying to make out who it was, then sighed.
"What is it now, Krycek?" he asked, not even bothering to pull his gun.
There were times he thought that Krycek had watched too much Star Trek.
The way he turned up, out of the blue, made mysterious comments and sent
Mulder off on roadtrips that invariably got him into hot water. Who did
Krycek think he was? Q?
The double-, triple-, whatever-agent stepped forward into the light
coming from the television set. He was pouting. Mulder wanted to sigh.
Krycek was a little too old to be pouting, no matter how adorable it made
him look. "I just came by to see how you were doing."
"Riiight. What is it this time? Bigfoot is alive and well and working for
the CIA? Elvis was injected with alien DNA, and that's why he really
died? The Consortium has taken over Coca-Cola Ltd. and is going to come
out with a new flavor that has psychedelics mixed in? You never just
drop by, Krycek. What do you want?"
Mulder waited. He really didn't have the energy for this right now. It
wasn't that he didn't like Krycek. Hell, sometime he liked the man
better as a traitorous rat-bastard than he did as the over-eager FBI
agent, even if he did indulge himself in beating the younger man up
almost every time they ran into each other. Like just didn't play a part
in their relationship, if you could call it that.
Krycek's head was cocked to the side, and he was studying the shifting
light reflected of the ceiling. "What do I want?" he said, mostly to
himself. "I want world peace, the consortium gone and the aliens to turn
out to be cuddly, friendly people who will bring great technological
advances and wipe out world hunger." Mulder couldn't help himself. He
snorted. He snickered. He laughed. And it wasn't really that funny. He
was tired. That had to be why he was practically rolling on the floor,
laughing.
When he wiped away the few tears that had oozed out during his laughing
fit, he found Krycek grinning at him. "Thanks," he said. "I needed that.
Now, really. What are you here for?"
Krycek looked a little sheepish. "I really don't know. I was in the
area, just passing through, and I got the urge to stop by and say 'hi'.
Nothing more."
Mulder snorted. He still didn't buy it, but he'd play along for the time
being. "Fine. Care for a beer?"
A couple of hours later, Mulder was feeling tipsy, and more than a little
silly. One beer had become two, then three. A scan of the television
found a channel playing "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes", and Mulder had
found out that it was a lot more fun watching it with someone else than
it was alone. Some of the comments Krycek made... Mulder snickered to
himself. Just the whole idea of spending a night at home with Krycek, no
guns, no punches, no assassins popping through the door, was almost an
X-File in itself.
After the end of the movie, they switched to Mystery Science Theatre
3000, and were having a ball trying to top the comments that the
characters on the show were making about the incredibly cheesy B-movie.
Mulder was feeling very relaxed by the time the end credits rolled, and
was actually beginning to think he might get a decent night's sleep after
all.
Finally, he turned off the television, and stood to stretch all the
muscles in his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Krycek do the
same, and couldn't help smiling at how cat-like it made the man look. The
usual leather jacket had been discarded, and the other man had kicked off
his shoes, leaving only jeans, t-shirt and white socks. Mulder's jacket
and tie had also disappeared during the evening, along with his tie
(accompanied by snickers from Krycek), and his shirt was partly undone.
Containers from an ordered-in meal of Chinese food were spread across the
coffee table.
"Well," he said, feeling almost boneless after the stretch and trying to
hide a yawn. "I'm ready for bed."
"Me too. Let's go."
Mulder blinked for a minute, trying to interpret Krycek's statement.
Eventually, all he could think of to say was: "Huh?"
"You know. Bed. The place where one sleeps and engages in other
activities."
"I usually sleep on the couch," Mulder said. And I must be doing that
right now, he thought, because this conversation is making absolutely
no sense.
"No wonder you look like you've been folded into a pretzel so many
mornings. C'mon."
Mulder was so busy trying to figure out what Krycek was up to that he
didn't resist when the young man took his hand and pulled him into the
bedroom.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Krycek said, shaking his head at the state of the bed.
"You really should do housework a little more often."
While Mulder stood in the doorway, Krycek started to push books and
laundry off the bed, leaving it in piles on the floor. Once the bedspread
had been exposed, he folded it back, then turned to Mulder.
"Now, normally, one doesn't wear clothes to bed," he informed Mulder, and
started undoing the buttons on his shirt. "Of course, you're not exactly
what anyone would call normal, are you?" His hands headed for Mulder's
belt buckle, and Mulder stopped him.
"Krycek, what are you doing?"
Krycek blinked at him through his lashes, in what had to be the worst
impression of an 'oh-so-innocent' look. "I'm putting you to bed, silly."
Mulder's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Then what?"
"I go to bed."
"Where?"
"Ummm..."
Mulder groaned. "What, you've decided that since we didn't beat each
other up, you'd seduce me instead? And what brought that on?"
Krycek grinned. "Why do you think I keep turning up? And for once I'm
not handcuffed or too bruised to try anything, and if you think I'm going
to pass up the chance." He leaned forward and kissed Mulder, then started
undoing Mulder's pants. "You've got another thing coming." He gave a
small leer. Mulder's pants were down around his ankles before he could
form a reply.
"You expect me to believe you've been wanting to... you know... for a
while?"
Krycek gave him an exasperated look. "Well, why else would I stick
around? Sure, I want to bring the Consortium down. Sure, I want to expose
the cover-ups. But really, Mulder. I could have done all that from
South America or something, and a lot more safely, too." He had finished
undressing the unresisting Mulder, and getting his own clothes off. "But
noooo. I keep coming around, getting beat up and handcuffed (not that I
mind handcuffs in the right setting, mind you). Or worse, you hand me
over to Skinner or Scully to keep an eye on." He turned Mulder around, and
pushed him onto the bed.
"But now we've actually had a pleasant, social-type evening. Dinner and a
movie. No yelling, not fighting. Why not end it right?"
With that, Krycek landed on top of Mulder, driving the air out of his
lungs. While he was gasping for air, the other man's mouth came down in a
very determined kiss. When Mulder's lungs were screaming for air, be
pulled back.
"Besides," he said, conversationally. "Considering the life you lead, you
must have a permanent case of blue balls. Don't you ever get lucky?"
Not lately, Mulder's libido pointed out. What the hell, why not? He could
always beat Krycek up later.
Mulder twisted, and succeeded in rolling on top of Krycek. "Handcuffs,
huh?" He tilted his head as he considered the idea. "Nah," he finally
said. "Maybe next time."
Krycek was positively beaming by that point. The sort of sunny, open
grin that Mulder had only seen a couple of times when they were partners,
and never since Krycek had been exposed as a Consortium agent and had
hit the ground running.
Mulder started shifting his weight, slowly rubbing against Krycek's
entire body. "So," he asked in mild tone. "What do we do now?" He
followed the question by a lick, then a suck at Krycek's neck. It left
the most interesting sort of mark.
Krycek gaped at him for a moment, then laughed. "What? You've never
tried this before?" Mulder shook his head, and rubbed a little closer.
His erection was growing nicely, and Krycek's was practically burning a
hole in his hip. "Just keep doing what you're doing," the young man
gasped. "You're doing just fine."
Mulder decided that was a good idea, especially since his hips didn't
exactly seem to be answering to his commands anymore. He managed to coax
them into moving over a little bit, so that the two cocks were rubbing
against each other. He gasped at the unfamiliar, but definitely
pleasurable, feeling that the caress caused, and pressed his lips
against Krycek's.
The glide of tongue against tongue soon had him moaning. It had
definitely been too long since the last time he'd gotten laid. In fact,
he couldn't really remember the last time, but he was sure gonna
remember this time. Maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to turn
down all those invitations from men over the years.
He was grinding himself against Krycek's body, when the man decided to
exchange their positions again. Mulder was looking down at Krycek one
moment, looking up into his face the next. Then Krycek lowered himself,
controlling the thrusts himself this time. Funny, Mulder gasped to
himself, I never thought that nipples rubbing against nipples could be
this exciting.
Unfortunately, he wasn't really able to exercise much self-control by
this point, and it must have been nearly as long for Krycek, since no
sooner had Mulder painted their chest with white liquid, Krycek was
adding his own touches.
Krycek collapsed on top of him, and the yawns were already forcing their
way loose. Mulder rolled his partner over to the side, and slung an arm
across the other man's chest, before drifting off to sleep.
Sometime during the night, Mulder woke to find Krycek giving him what
was arguably the best blow-job of his life. Of course, he could count on
one hand the number of blow-jobs he'd ever received. He moaned, and
shifted, while Krycek held his hips and hoovered down every drop he
could get out of Mulder.
Once he'd gotten his breath back, Mulder returned the favor. He didn't
do quite as good a job, it being his first time (he hadn't realized
that scraping teeth would cause such an interesting screech), but he
resolved to do better next time.
Next time? Yeah, there was going to be a next time, if he had anything
to say in the matter.
Mulder woke again, into the grey light just before dawn. Krycek was
getting dressed.
Mulder stood up, and went to wrap his arms around the younger man. "So,"
he said, after kissing Krycek under the ear. "Any preference in movies
for next time?"
"Nah," Krycek said with a smile. "Anything will do. But I'll bring
dinner."
"And the handcuffs."
Krycek grinned, then was gone.
Okay, Mulder thought. Maybe he wasn't completely like Q. Then again...
Hadn't Scully mentioned that there were people on the internet writing
sex stories about Picard and Q? Maybe he should look a few of them up.
Might give him some ideas for the next time Krycek came calling.
This was definitely more fun that beating him up.
THE END
A Quiet Night at Home
by Lianne Burwell
Mulder opened the door to his apartment and went in, not bothering to
turn on the lights. His travel bag, he dropped on the floor next to the
door. His overcoat was tossed somewhere in the direction of the kitchen
table. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, leaving the sound
off for now, hoping that he would be able to find something interesting
to watch. It had been almost a month since the last time he'd had a
decent night's sleep, and it didn't look like tonight was going to buck
the trend.
June 1998
